FringeBlog #2! GO!
(Predictions: Slow start, gradual promising pick-up, inevitable sharp decline.)
I woke up rather early indeed last Tuesday morning. My father had offered me a lift into town the night before, so we left at around 8am. I awoke for the sixth morning in a row with a hideous headache causing me to feel sick, so took some drugs and hoped it’d go away. After being dropped off, I did the only logical thing someone who is an hour early for their bus does and planned an elongated route to the bus station which would involve going through all numbers of deserted areas in case I needed to throw up. Hooray! This didn’t happen in the end, but I did have a rather nice walk around places I’ve not been for a while as I listened to Adam and Joe’s final Song Wars Podcasts. The fresh air seemed to have done me good and I felt fine. This is vital information for a blog. Just as staying silent and waving at a microphone is great for radio.
The bus journey got off to a good start. As I had been there ridiculously early, I was one of the first people to climb aboard (it was not a ship) and grabbed the lovely leg-room seat. An old woman talking to herself made her way to the back pondering why there was not as much leg-room as there used to be. Me, being a gent (but female equivalent… a lady, I believe) offered her my lovely leg-room seat. She said that it was very kind of me and I moved. Karma-points! I was excited by what I could spend them on when I arrived in Edinburgh.
We reached our destination and I realised I didn’t have change to use the lavatory at the station, so I did the thing any sane person would and snuck into Burger King to use their bathroom. Only, as I dried my hands, I noticed a sign that said “It’s wrong to sneak in here to use the loo…”
I think this was minus-Karma-points. Ah, easy come, easy go!
I met up with my glorious sister and heard all about her (birth)day so far. We walked to the Fruitmarket where I showed her the cake I’d made her, then we went for a walk to Falko, the Konditormeister, which is a fun word to say. I’ve known this since the days of studying German at die Schule. As soon as we approached the building, Morven remembered that it wasn’t actually open on Tuesdays. Still, the walk was nice! We compensated by going to another cafe, but it was apparently an anti-climax. Before we knew it, it was around 3.30pm so we rushed to catch a bus to the Stand to see Simon Munnery’s AGM ‘09. We sat on the top deck (it was not a ship) of the bus and were chatting away casually, as is our right, until we heard a woman downstairs shouting “Satan! Blood! Satan! Fuck god!”
Conversation ceased as we grinned at each other and stayed silent. It seemed to be whenever the bus slowed down, coming up to a bus stop that she’d shout incoherently to herself, but soon it ended and we figured she must have alighted. Disappointing as we never got to see her face. I imagine she would have been a larger lady, wearing purple robes with straggly red hair…
Soon we got to the Stand and found a few free seats at the front of the stage. A man came onstage and sat behind the drums. This man was Mac. Then Mr Munnery came on and the Annual General Meeting of 2009 commenced.
This is where my non-existent reviewing skillz begin to show as it’s only been just over a week and I can’t remember much of this. I do recall mentions of the Archers, children, spoons and a Supermarket Opera. It is very clear to see Munnery’s loyalties lie with Sainsbury’s as he used the sword of Bargains to try and slay his rival Tesco. Nobody counted on Asda turning up though! Bastards!
At the short interval, he instructed everyone to put motions into his bucket. I didn’t know what to write so ended up going for what I knew, “A woman on our bus on the way here shouted ‘SATAN! BLOOD! SATAN!’. I think she was right.”
He only got about two motions read out, but we followed him to Lord Bodos, the pub across the road, after the gig to continue the meeting. On the way there a man asked me if he’d met me at a poetry night. I told him probably not and he continued to walk to the pub. Here, we all picked motions from the bucket and read them out. The two I’d to read were “Trains should be free, but you should have to pay to get off. Discuss.” and “If artichokes have hearts, can they feel love? Is it wrong to love an artichoke?”
My dear sister read, “Peanut butter” and “Simon Munnery: True or false?”
Much discussion was had and a lorra lorra laughs. Sir Munnery sang a song about supermarkets (“Insane insane insainsburys… Oh no, Tesco!… Go to Lidl for a piddle…”) and did impressions of Bruce Springsteen. He didn’t think much of him at Glastonbury despite enjoying his music before. During this time, Matthew turned up to collect Morven to take her out for a meal. He waited patiently.
Eventually, a guy in a Virgilio Anderson tshirt read out my motion. Munnery took it from him, read it over and we discussed the Satan-lady. I told him it was all true and he seemed amused. He also laughed at “I think she was right.” This made me proud as it was originally going to say “I had to agree with her…” which may not have been as funny. Morven stood and Munnery asked if she was leaving. She told him that Matthew was taking her out for birthday tea and this prompted the ringmaster to lead us in a rendition of Happy Birthday. It was very sweet. They left, I stayed and heard about Mac pissing himself. He’d left by this point, so the story was allowed to be told. Once all the motions were read out, everyone began to leave. I stuck around to tell the Munnery that I’d enjoyed the gig a lot. He gave me one of his few handwritten flyers for a week of free gigs he was putting on at Fingers Piano Bar, I told him I’d try put in an appearance on Thursday and he shook my hand.
By this point, it was around 7pm and I decided to walk to one of the Underbellys (underbellies?) and see Paul Foot. I bought a ticket and sat in the bar reading about Parmenides of Elea in my bumper book of philosophy phun, waiting for the five minute call. That came and I made my way into the room the gig was in.
For the second time in a day, I was in the front row. We weren’t waiting long and Mr Foot came on, acknowledged a stool that was on the stage (the kind you sit on, you ghastly beasts) and continued to tell us about four main subjects including loneliness and dollies in Bed and Breakfasts. He was really rather lively and energetic and spoke to various audience members. I think he frightened some, but it was very amusing for the rest of us. After the show, I returned my glass to the bar, used the bathroom and then made my way out of the venue. On the way out, I saw the wonderful Mr Foot standing outside the room he’d just performed in. I managed to grab him before he left, told him I’d enjoyed the show and his fantastic shoes. Paul Foot has tiny ladies feet, apparently. Size 6 I believe. He asked if I’d ever seen him live before and I said that I hadn’t, but I’d been looking out for him since that ‘FAQ U’ show was on Channel4 a few years back. Apparently he’s played in Aberdeen since then, at the Blue Lamp. This confused me. They usually just have on jazz bands. I have since investigated. What in Jeeves’ name was I doing last August on that day? Perhaps this blog will tell me… (Just checked. I’m like some sort of futuristic blog-detective. Apparently, the day before the gig I watched the Happy Days where the Fonz jumps the shark and the day after the gig I was at work and enjoyed it ‘cos “it felt like a pub” - WHIT?!)
Anyway, I believe he should return and we should sit and drink gin. He should also probably bring Trevor Lock with him.
I left and walked in the direction of the Royal Mile. I met up with Morven and Matthew and we walked to the Pleasance Courtyard where we sat with Steve and Clara. A man who worked for the Pleasance came up to our table and offered us free tickets for Brendan Burns. I was due to go see the DO’D that night and am really not a fan of Burns anyway, so politely declined, but the rest of the happy gang accepted as it was free. Apparently he’d sold out the weekend that had just passed, but tickets for that night’s show hadn’t sold very well. At around 10.10pm I made my way to the venue Over The Road for Mr David O’Doherty. I stood alone in the queue and shivered as it began to rain lightly. Luckily, we weren’t kept waiting long and we entered the venue which happened to be a church… with a bar in it… The set-up of the seating was strange. There were three rows of stools (the kind you sit on, you ghastly beasts) and behind them, a wide space and some tiered seating. Nobody seemed to be sitting on the stools and by this point, I didn’t mind sitting in the front row as I knew the DO’D didn’t tend to pick on people and also I’d had a few drinks, therefore was more confident… but not confident enough to be the only person to sit on a stool, so I sat on the front row of the tiered seats. As the place and spaces to my left filled, the one seat right next to me remained free. A guy with glasses came over and asked if he could sit there. I said “Of course!” and he proceeded to say he’d not seen any reviews of the O’D so didn’t know what to expect. I told him I’d seen him live twice before and he was one of the best I’d witnessed, so he seemed excited. We watched as some people finally sat on the stools, but on the third row of them (which I’d count as the second row as the actual front row acted as a continuation of the stage. Too close to the stage to sit on, no leg room, you know…) We both agreed to join them on that row. From there, we giggled and jumped to the second row (the first row, though, I guess) as by this point, we’d acquired a new member of our exclusive comedy club. I’d gone alone and ended up sitting in between two lovely boys who spoke about comedy and the good things they’d seen with enthusiasm. This is what it’s all about! Strangers! Stranger Danger? No! Stranger Hurray…nger!
This is all very well and good, but what was the time?
It was David O’Doherty time.
I don’t know anyone who could possibly dislike this man. I remember when I met him last year he was unbelievably friendly and chatty and lovely. He even accepted half a block of tablet from a stranger and looked delighted about it. I think the man onstage is the man offstage and it’s not often you can say that these days. I have no idea what I could possibly say in this little bit of internet that could do him any justice, but I was grinning like a twat all the way through and I could feel that the two guys next to me had fallen in love with him by the end… I couldn’t physically feel it, by the way. I don’t think that sort of behaviour is socially acceptable.
He didn’t do as many songs as usual, but the stories made up for this… and the fact that he flashed his chest to spite the one woman who had her view blocked by a pillar, which made me laugh a great deal.
All in all: Ace. Would recommend to a friend. Have been recommending to friends for nearly two years now. Is anyone listening?
I sauntered back to the Courtyard where I found Morven, Matthew, Clara and Steve and also a poster advertising one We Are Klang show that was occurin’ the next day. I immediately sent Steve a message to see if the rumours were true and we contentedly got in a taxi back to Leith (of Sunshine On…) where we all went to bed.
I awoke to some peculiar text messages and watched a bit of tv with the sister before heading off into town. We were gonna go to Falko (Konditormeister) again and hopefully be lucky enough for it to be open this time. But first, we went to see our friend Charlie’s improv group, Blind Mirth, at the Voodoo Rooms. They were really very good, despite the fact that their numbers have apparently dropped in the last few weeks.
I feel they will all do very well. Footlights? Pfft! It’s all about the ‘Mirth!
We went to the Doric for some food then made our way to Falko whilst hysterically discussing Histor and Pliny. It was open! I went up to order Morven a ginger beer and me some cake. There was no ginger beer. This led to much confusion and amusement. When asked if that was all, the guy at the counter looked puzzled as to why there were two of us but only one cake and one drink. I said I couldn’t afford a drink. When our order arrived at the table, there was an extra cup of coffee and it turned out the guy had given me it for free, which was very sweet. Although I’d not had any caffeine for days, it’d be rude to turn it down so I drank it and told myself the caffeine-diet would resume the next day. Morven had promised that this would be the greatest cake I’d ever taste and she wasn’t too far off… Enough was enough and she ordered one too. We decided to walk a bit afterwards to work off the massive Kuchen we’d just consumed. Day-um it was good. We returned triumphant to the flat and sat around watching crap tv for a while. Before I knew it, it was time for me to head out and see Kristen Schaal and Kurt Braunohler. I paid £14 for a ticket and knew I’d be seeing them the next day for free. Doh… But still, I was looking forward to it.
I escaped the evil seagulls of Leith and hopped on a bus and made a very important phonecall* (*may not be true). I got off the bus and tried to figure out which would be the best way to the Mound whilst still on the phone. I walked up to some steps and spotted none other than Trevor Lock, who I’d already met twice on my last jaunt to this city. I said a quick, “I’ll call you back…” down the phone and made my way towards ol’ Trev only so I could say the following phrase, “Trevor Lock, could you please stop stalking me?” I did and was met with “Hey, it’s you!” I was probably keeping him from doing something important, but started a conversation anyway which was mundane on my part. Sorry, Trev!
“It’s Kirsten, right? Have you met Alfie?” He asked, introducing me to the man he was with. This man turned out to be Alfie Brown, a comedian Trev told me to go and see. I found out he was playing at the Tron and, if you’ll have read the previous blog this will make more sense, asked if he knew of a guy also at the Tron who did a poem called ‘Synonym’. Joe Lycett apparently. So that was exciting. I decided it was probably best to let them get on with what they were doing, wished Trev well with the rest of the Fringe and continued on my way to see Kristen and Kurt.
I saw a queue outside the Assembly and joined it. Error number one. I was in my happy little world with my headphones in when at 9.50pm the queue started moving and our tickets were looked at. I was informed that I was in the wrong queue and should go up some stairs to Rainy Hall. When I got there I was told I’d need to join a queue outside. When I said I had already done that, someone else came and solved confusion by telling my to join the queue outside and across the street. That was strange. The queue I ended up in was at the other side of the road from the venue against some railings and nothing else. Odd system. I was fine though, not pissed off like you’d expect to feel. I was loving the world, but was oddly depressed at the same time. Strange, it was.
Soon our queue began to move and we were led back into the courtyard where I’d just come from and up the stairs to Rainy Hall again. Doh. I chose a seat a few rows back and awaited the magic…
They came out to tremendous applause and I immediately wanted to hug Kristen hard. The whole atmosphere was strange and it was like being at a party where a brother and sister who are slightly uncomfortably close and are slowly getting more and more drunk so you don’t know what’s going to happen. They pitched tv ideas and handed out giant party poppers to three audience members who were supposed to let them off when they enjoyed a joke. At one point there was a noise from outside, probably to do with the Tattoo and the pair hid behind the curtains and said “Get ready to start rationing!” then one of the poppers was popped. They enjoyed it, it was a beautiful moment. That guy had good timing and was praised for it.
Everyone left the room bemused, but giggling and when I got outside I wandered around for a bit in the vain hope that I might run into Ryan or someone I knew. It wasn’t so, so I went to catch a bus. I paid £1.20 for said bus to terminate round the corner from where I’d got on. I sighed, walked back the way I came and got a taxi instead. There’s a credit crunch on, y’know!
I made it back to the flat and went to bed.
I woke up at about 7am and was feeling inexplicably sad. That was until my dear sister gave me an early birthday present in the form of these beauties!
Yep, y’heard… Jemaine and Bret hairclips. I’m excited to wear them on a right royal night out. But I’ll be careful with ‘em!
Schwest left for work and Matthew listened to his 80s playlist on Spotify. It was gold (Gold! Always believe in your soul…), he then left for work and I bid on a Lee and Herring video on ebay. I tracked down lovely Joe Lycett on Twitter and told him I’d come along to his gig that day. It started at 12.30, so I decided I’d go to it rather than Robin Ince’s science readings and then Book Club like I’d planned. I’d still go to the latter though. By the time I got into town and had a wander, I got to the Tron at 12.15, bought a ticket for the Lunchtime Club and some Pimm’s. I spilt my drink before I’d taken a sip and presumed it was a sign not to be drinking so early on in the day. Damn you, Jesus!
I managed to look busy and mop up the table in a subtle manner until it was time to head into the room where the gig was.
The gig was kicked off by David Morgan (filling in for Ally Sheedy in the picture with the glasses) who was full of energy and generally lovely. He was the compere extraordinaire (so it says on the flyer) and so took it upon himself to make friends with the audience. I think he claimed he had about three favourite women that day. Fickle, eh? Also, one of the guys from 4 Poofs And A Piano was in. So that was nice. Anyway, yes, he was very lovely and excited and built up a good atmosphere for Benjamin Partridge (Emilio Estevez – middle, right) who was apparently hungover. He told us the wonders of Greggs, however made the common error of presuming it had started up here in Scotchland when my pedantry forces me to point out it was first opened in Newcastle. Take that, Partridge! Only joking, he was very funny and spoke of holding his breath whilst going through tunnels during his childhood along with a mime of doing this.
Next up was the young man I’d met the night before with Trev, Alfie Brown (Judd Nelson). Firstly, the shallow part of me would like to admit that I enjoyed Alfie’s attire a lot and secondly, he was very good, well done, etc etc. I especially enjoyed the first part of his set where he came onstage clutching a book apparently about how to do stand-up and read from it self-referentially. It was original, I enjoyed it. The rest of the crowd seemed bemused after a while, but this was also mentioned in this part of the set.
Then came Joe Lycett (Molly Ringwald) who immediately pointed out how he doesn’t like the above picture as he looks like a giant baby who has just been dropped into a perfectly nice photograph. I laughed. It was good to see a full set from him after his very brief appearance at Bannermans two weeks before. I believe this guy may be one to watch out for, he’s ever-so charming. Also, apparently two nights previous he’d won the Chortle Student Comedian of the Year competition. Well deserved, ra ra ra.
The final comeejin to take to the stage was young Ivo Graham (I say young, but he’s the same age as me… ) who was very good indeed. He had a sweet, quite shy delivery, but told amusing anecdotes as you would hope. He went on to win So You Think You’re Funny that night and again, I’d say it was well deserved. Overall, good wee show. Well worth that fiver. Jump onboard the Five Pound Fringe and Free Fringe, there are some goo-ood people taking part in it all. Hopefully that’ll continue next year.
By the time the show ended it was 2pm, so I met up with Matthew as he was leaving work and handed him back his keys. I then went to grab some food and decided I would do so at an Eerie Pub as I’m collecting them. Slains is our local, I’ve enjoyed the London Stone a couple of times and now it was Jekyll and Hyde’s turn. Overall, disappointing, sadly. Felt a bit ill afterwards, but read more about philosophers then walked around a bit to make myself feel better. At 3.30pm I ended up back at Bannermans, very early for Robin Ince’s book club. I got me a drink and continued reading about philosophers while I sat on a barrel. As it neared 4.15, I wandered through to where the club was going to take place and found a seat.
Martin White, Robin’s accordionist fantastisch, took to the stage.
[Incidentally, I know two accordion-related jokes. Neither echo my feelings of accordionists, but I appreciate the comedy anyway.
Accordion joke #1...
Q: What is the definition of a gentleman?
A: A man who knows how to play the accordion but never does.
Accordion joke #2...
Q: What's the difference between an accordion and some onions?
A: Nobody cries when you chop up an accordion.
Ahthankyou.]
Martin announced that Robin was running late, so he’d pretend to be him by wearing a cardigan and reading from books sarcastically. He borrowed a man in the second row’s cardigan and did just that. He then introduced the first act, who I believe was called Martin Crozier (please correct me if I’m wrong, I am an imbecile…) who read from an old book of baby names. He was really excellent.
Martin stood up again and continued impressions of Robin, then a voice came from the back of the room and Mr Ince moved towards the stage, “Martin, are you pretending to be me again? I made you, Martin, I made you! And I would never wear a cardigan with a hood, I’m much too old for that!” He apologised for being late and said he was due to do EIGHT shows that day. Nutter. He quickly skimmed through some amusing old books he picked up and introduced the next person to the stage.
This is going to be a terrible recollection of events (it already was, yes, I know…) as I can’t remember anybody’s name… Helen Arney was very sweet and Joe Lycett turned up too. Twice in one day!
The gig ended with Robin reading from one of many Giant Crabs Attacking The Welsh Coast books with full musical accompaniment. Harrowing. But ultimately hilarious. I finished my drink and went to leave but saw Robin at the door talking to someone. I loitered a bit and grabbed him quickly before he went to gather up all of his stuff from the stage. I told him I’d been bothering him on Twitter the previous week wanting to know details of all his shows, he apologised for late replies but said to continue pestering. He’s going to regret that. I asked if he was really doing eight shows that day and he told me that he was and on his way to Bannermans was worried that he might die… and be found with a bag full of books about giant crabs taking over the Welsh coast, I told him to stop working so hard. Then he looked pleasantly surprised when I gave him a few quid donation (god, yeah, I’m like Jesus…) and I told him to return to Aberdeen. I’m confident that he might and I never usually believe people when they say they’ll be back. Good old Robin. I got the impression that he would have liked to have stayed and chatted much more, but was in a rush. He seems genuinely interested in speaking to people. On his dvd, for instance, there’s an interview and it is said several times, ”We’ll wrap it up there then…” but he keeps talking and they keep recording. Aww… Go see this man live! Go to the Book Club! Go see him verbally fondle science on a stage! He’s brilliant.
I left the pub and meandered (no, I didn’t walk, I meandered) on. I think this sums up my life. I constantly meander… I apologise to you all for doing so. Ended up at the Gilded Balloon and decided I’d go see Bridget Christie. I bought a ticket but was an hour early so headed to the Library Bar where the gas on their soft drink tap wasn’t working. I had a glass of water, looked as though I was reading about philosophers and eavesdropped on a painfully middle-class group of friends’ conversation. With ten minutes before the gig was due to start I went down to the waiting room/holding pen/scum emporium where I grabbed the closest free seat. An eccentric man started talking to me. I think he may have been there because he was a Daily Mail reader and the title of the show is My Daily Mail Hell, but that’s not an accusation I want to throw around, so I’ll just stick with ‘eccentric’. One of the Gilded Balloon staff came out of the doors leading to the stage on my left and told us to form a queue. Despite not being there early, I’d ended up at the front. We were then told that Bridget likes the front row to be filled and if you were at the start of the queue, you would definitely be in that row. At this point, one of the two people in front of me exclaimed “Oh, god no!” and moved to the back. I glanced over to my right, the direction she had just shot off towards. My attention was caught by a figure two metres away in a rain-jacket who had his head down, looking at his phone but was also listening to the woman next to him. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew who this was. I froze completely. He looked up, spoke to the woman, she said goodbye to him and joined the end of the queue and he put his phone away, stood for a second looking blankly like he’d forgotten where he was and then moved towards the door. As he hovered in the doorway with his back to me in his little Berghaus anorak, I shook myself out of my stunned state and knew I had to walk over and shake this man’s hand or I’d regret it for a long time. My knees moved but my feet didn’t. He’d already started to walk away and within seconds he was gone. I did not say hello to Stewart Lee.
I didn’t have much time to kick myself repeatedly for not confronting him and being a sycophant as we were ushered into the room and the show began immediately, but it was the perfect distraction.
So, yes, the show started as soon as everyone sat down. I was in the front row as I’d been told I would which meant I got a good view of the props. A desk, a chair, a mug, a notebook, a Jack Vettriano painting. Bridget came out in a bowler hat and a tail-coat and wowed us with our movements. She started off by telling us that she used to work for the Daily Mail doing their admin and making tea for racists. She acted out how she used to get through doors with racist tea, which looked very difficult. Kudos, Christie! Then she continued to tell us stories of interviews she’d done with celebrities. The eccentric man who’d previously been in the holding pen with me was in the front row too and acted in a peculiar fashion. I’m not sure if he’d ever been to a comedy show before as he treated it a bit like a conversation. But by jove, he knew about Anthony Andrews! (I’ve just realised that I’m doing myself no favours here by mentioning Anthony Andrews as I wrote a blog about Brideshead Revisited over a year ago and to this day the majority of people who are led here, and inevitably become disappointed, do so due to searching for either ‘Anthony Andrews’ or ‘Jeremy Irons’ on Google.)
The show passed far too quickly for my liking, as have all my other Fringe Highlights and it was coming to an end. It had been a strange but excellent one. The crowd were very outspoken, but not in a heckly way, they were just opinionated on the people Bridget had interviewed (mainly John Cleese and Jack Vettriano; two people who one woman had shouted “KNOB!” about). Another man had been at the book signing that Ms Christie had been at where she was strangled by Gene Wilder. This proved to be very funny, especially as while they were getting quite into talking to each other, she, forgetting she was telling us all a story asked him “So what happened?” and he replied, “Well… I’ll let you tell…” Made me laugh anyway.
She is really bloody lovely and hilarious. I now don’t know who I’m more jealous of, her or StewLee.
I had over an hour to kill after the gig so again ambled around and decided to go to Fingers Piano Bar for Simon Munnery’s Free Funnery early. It was already pretty busy even though it wasn’t due to start for an hour. I assumed that everyone was there for the man who was currently onstage reading from his book. About fishermen. He swore a lot. I was confused. It turned out the majority of people were there early for the same reason I was as nobody left when the fisherman did. Morven turned up and introduced me to her friend. Moments later Clara appeared, followed by Charlie and later Matthew and his mother. Charlie made a faux-pas to a comedian as she walked past them apparently.
We were sat right by the door, so saw Munnery turn up moments before 9pm. Also, Kristen and Kurt snuck in and I got a bit excited, but knew they’d probably have to do their set and then leave to get to their gig at the Assembly.
The first thing Munnery spoke about when he got onto the stage, again was supermarkets. He made up another song about his love of Sainsburys and everyone loved him. Truly a hero. He introduced Kristen and Kurt who, again, were very funny and sweet and surprisingly, did no material from their actual show. They acted out a scene as Pocahontas and John Smith which was filthy but hilarious. I think they can get away with saying things that they did because they’re so darned cute. After they finished up, they walked past us again smiling. I resisted doing a hug attack upon ‘em.
Next up was Hannah Gadsby who was the comedian Charlie had run into earlier. Apparently she said to her, “OH! I know you! You’re a comedian! …I can’t remember your name though…” or something along those lines and Hannah didn’t look impressed. Although why would she? It wasn’t particularly impressive. Anyway, she was very dry. I was going to say “and very funny” but I’ve said that far too many times over the last 5658 words. Maybe I should just list all the people who were there, all of whom I found enjoyable and were good at their jobs: Jeff Kreisler, Chloe Philip and Phil Kay.
It was good to see Phil live again. He was just as energetic and… I’m not sure how else to describe him, as ever. He started to destroy the stage a bit, to the enjoyment of everyone in the room, including the bar staff who originally looked concerned. Munnery closed the show and said there’d be a bucket for donations at the end. Phil Kay took it upon himself to go around with it and force people to put some money in. He was actually very sweet. I was expecting a more mentally-ill version of Bob Geldof, but he looked chuffed whenever anyone put any money in. Bless ‘im.
We all went outside into the harsh, cold night and Clara kindly offered me a place to stay round her’s. I said goodbye to Morven, Matthew and Sally and Steve took us back to Clara and Charlie’s. They took very good care of me, lovely people and I set up camp in their music/Beatles memorabilia preservation room. I was alone with my thoughts and started to feel a bit sad that the fringe was drawing to a close. I also took this time to be pissed off with myself for not speaking to StewLee. I’m still slightly annoyed, but not so much. I may have to force Pete to wait behind with me after his glorious return to Aberdeen in November, a gig I cannot wait for. I fell asleep in a bad mood and woke up melancholy one. I didn’t want to wake up Charlie but also needed to get into town, so I left a note and exited their beautiful house. I was impressed at my ability to find my way to a bus stop and get to the Royal Mile. By this point it was around 10.30am and the city centre was eerily quiet and depressing. A sure sign that the fringe was almost over. I bought Keri a birthday present and sadly did one final amble around the hotspots in search of something to do. I found nothing and headed to the bus station, telling myself to write something for next year. It would be nice, but I am so very uninspired.
This has been a dreadful blog and I, once more, salute you if you made it through the whole thing. I blame the poor writing of this particular entry on the fact that I couldn’t start it when I got home as I wanted to see Keri on her birthday and did so, then on the Saturday I felt all gloomy and de-motivated. By the time I did feel in the mood to write, it was Sunday morning and I had to head to work. Basically, I’ve been writing it during varying levels of motivation and that inconsistency comes across. I’m sorry, I still love you, I’m very tired, the next one will be better.
